Taming The Hunter. Michele Hauf

house, following the scent of cinnamon and...

      “Bananas?” she said as she wandered into the kitchen.

      Dane stood before the stove, spatula in hand. He wore nothing but the black pants he’d worn last night, no shoes or socks. The back view of him gave no clues that he was a nerdy scientist. Those delts and lats. Mercy, she was glad she knew her anatomy. On the other hand, who cared what those hard stretches of muscle were called? Oh, but what was that?

      She touched his hip, above the three red scratches.

      “Wild woman,” he said over a shoulder.

      “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”

      “A deliciously painful reminder of a night well spent.” He turned and kissed her forehead. “I’m a bit of an early riser. And since I have no way of getting back to town without absconding with your car once again, I am at your mercy. So I thought I’d butter you up with banana pancakes. Gluten free, thanks to your almond flour in the pantry. And a nice lemon and blueberry syrup.”

      “Wow. If this is the bonus round, I’m in.”

      “The bonus round?”

      She hugged him from behind. “Last night was incredible. Now you’re upping the stakes by making me breakfast. It’s not very often a girl brings home a man and scores so highly.”

      “You don’t know me well yet. I have a terrible habit of leaving my beard clippings in the sink, and you don’t even want to ask about how often I do laundry.”

      “Then I won’t. Can I help?”